


The Tide is High

by RowboatCop



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Basically, Beach Sex, Coulson and Skye doing Yoga, Coulson cooking, Coulson cooking naked, Coulson in teeny swim trunks, Coulson's stubble, D/s undertones, F/M, Massage, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Public Sex, Sex on Lola, Skye in charge, Voyeurism, beach vacation fic, every Skoulson sex trope, this makes me blush, wet coulson, wet skoulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-14
Updated: 2015-02-14
Packaged: 2018-03-12 19:53:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 21,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3353276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RowboatCop/pseuds/RowboatCop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulson and Skye spend the weekend at the beach. Future fic, established relationship, excessive amounts of porn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Coulson convinces Skye that they really need a vacation. (Which they do.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was inspired by fanart by lastcenturykindagirl of Coulson at the beach in tiny swim shorts, here: http://lastcenturykindagirl.tumblr.com/post/109541597804/coulson-on-vacation-inspired-by-tumblr-convos

He sort of talks her into it by making it about him.

It's not like she doesn't know what he's doing — she definitely does — but she also thinks there's more truth to what he's saying than he knows.

“I want to make new memories,” he tells her. “Real ones.”

“Don't you have memories of the beach already? I know you went to Hawaii with Audrey.”

“True,” he agrees. “But that was before.”

Skye pushes herself up on her elbow and looks down at him, where he's lounging back against her pillow with one arm behind his head and the other tracing ticklish shapes down her back. She's still a little sweaty, and he's wearing the satiated face that he always gets when she rides him until he begs to come. (Because for all his swagger, for all his certainty in his own sexual prowess, Phil Coulson really likes being on bottom.)

“So, new memories of the beach, then. Ones with you and me?”

He smiles at her in agreement as his hand slips down to her ass where squeezes and tugs her down against him so he can kiss her again. The hand behind his head slips into her hair as his tongue makes a slow, easy map of her mouth.

“I've missed you,” he explains as he pulls back and drops his hand away from her head. “I feel like I've barely seen you in weeks.”

That's true enough. She's been skipping her own bed so often lately that she's definitely not had time to appear in his. But she's barely slept since someone matching May's description was caught on security cameras breaking into a US military weapons bunker. But what she's doing — trying to get a drop on Ward and Agent 33 — is important. It's important for national security and for Agent 33's freedom and for May's reputation and for the future of SHIELD.

“I know,” he breaks into her thoughts as though she's voiced them. “Skye, I don't mean to suggest that the work you're doing isn't important. It is. But you're running yourself ragged.”

“So this isn't actually about you, then. It's about me.”

“Maybe it's about us,” he counters. “Maybe it's about us both needing a few days off. Together. Alone.”

“All alone?”

“Yes. Just us.”

“Just us, lots of sex, no sneaking around?”

“Lots of sex.” He kisses her again, one hand threading through her hair while the other squeezes her ass again, kneading motions that actually feel really good. “Just two days where we can be as loud as we want. Maybe some time on the beach. One of our remaining safehouses is on the East Coast. It's nice this time of year. And private.”

“And May will be fine with it?”

“It's partly her idea.”

Skye raises a questioning eyebrow at that.

“My SO suggested that you and I need to spend a little time alone together having lots of sex on the beach?”

“Agent May suggested that you need a break, and I could stand one, too,” he revises, making Skye laugh into his shoulder. “And I did promise that you would get plenty of rest.”

“In between all the sex?”

Coulson smiles and rolls her underneath him, kissing from her lips down her chin and pausing to nip at her neck.

“We leave tomorrow early.”

“Because you were so sure I'd agree?”

“Because I _am_ your boss, you know.”

Skye laughs at that and guides his lips from her neck down to her breasts, directing him to her right nipple.

“ _May's_ your boss,” he grumbles as he sucks hard, swirling his tongue expertly, just the way she likes it.

“Then I guess I better do what May says.”

Skye pushes his head towards her other nipple, and he complies easily, pulling back only enough to cup her breasts before returning his mouth to his task. Every tug on her nipples shoots through her body, and she wraps her leg around Coulson's hip to grind up against him.

He takes the hint easily and skims his mouth down towards her stomach, nuzzling against her skin as Skye drops her leg to the bed and parts her knees, giving him room to crawl between her thighs. She sighs and drags her fingers through his hair as his tongue traces down her pubic mound to slide against her clit. The sensation of the firm lick makes her moan and open her legs more, but Coulson pulls back to look up at her.

“More.” She's not sure if it's an order or a plea, but either way, Coulson nods and sinks down between her legs. She can feel his fingers spreading her open, and then his tongue presses hard against her clit.

“Mmm,” he hums against her — a satisfied sound as though this is a treat for him instead of her — and dips his tongue down inside of her before returning it to circle over her clit.

“Phil,” she groans, and curls a leg around his neck even though she already has a hand pushing against the back of his head. He moans against her again, because he loves it when she guides him like this.

At her insistence, she can feel his fingers spread her wider apart under his tongue before he puckers against her clit and applies suction as his tongue works faster.

She's still sensitive from the sex before, and his firm, unrelenting pressure builds nicely until she's coming with her head thrown back and her leg wrapped around his neck. He keeps his tongue moving until she collapses back on the bed.

When she lets her legs fall open to release him, Coulson doesn't pull back. Instead, he nuzzles and kisses the skin of her inner thigh, breathing as heavily as she is.

“Can you go again?” She asks as she reaches a hand down to cup the side of his face, running her fingers along the sharp edge of his jaw as his cheek lays against her inner thigh.

He laughs in response.

“It's barely been half an hour,” he chides her. “I know I'm good...” He raises a flirty eyebrow at her, “...but I'm not _that_ good.”

“You _are_ good, though.”

Skye reaches for his hand and pulls it up to press his fingers between her legs; Coulson takes the direction immediately. He crawls up her body as he presses a finger against her opening, pushing inside as he kisses her, so that his tongue dips into her mouth as his finger crooks up inside of her.

The stretch increases as he pushes a second finger inside of her, and Skye's mouth falls open under his. He pushes hard, thrusting inside her in a fast rhythm.

“Like that,” she pants into his mouth. He nods and buries his face in her neck as he pushes her harder, thrusts his fingers faster inside of her. While he fingers her, she runs her hands down his naked back, feeling his muscles under her hands as she begins to come apart underneath him.

“Faster,” she begs when her whole lower body starts to tingle. “Please. Phil.”

He nods again into her neck and moves his hand faster against her, his fingers faster inside her. Skye gets louder as she gets closer, thrusting her hips up against his hand until she comes hard against him. She digs her fingers into his back as she spasms against him, and he works her through the orgasm while kissing her neck.

Coulson slips his finger over her clit slowly as he pulls back, and kisses her deeply before he finally moves his hand away.

“Oh God,” Skye sighs. His grin is so smug, it would be annoying except that he _is_ really good.

“Hmm,” he hums against her ear, “you're really sexy, you know?”

He pushes his erection against her, and Skye sort of laughs as she pulls him into another kiss.

“You just want me to tell you that you _are_ that good,” she faux-complains. “But you have to do all the work this time.” He laughs and she turns on her side to press her ass back against him. Coulson welcomes her gladly, sliding an arm under her neck while the other wraps around her middle, holding her back to his front.

“Fuck,” he groans as he pushes his cock between her legs, lifting her thigh so that he can press it up inside of her. It feels good as he fills her up — like he fits just right, hits all the places she wants him to hit — and it would be a little embarrassing with anyone other than Coulson, but she can feel herself start to come as soon as he's seated all the way inside of her.

He doesn't move much, instead grinds up against her, but Skye is still on edge from her last orgasm. She can feel herself clench around him, her whole body beginning to quake with pleasure before he even gets started.

“God, are you coming already?” He groans in her ear, hand clenching onto her hip.

“Uh huh,” she agrees, tilting her hips back against him as he begins to move harder, thrusting in earnest.

“You just love having my cock inside you,” he whispers, his own breath already beginning to come in harsh pants.

“Yes,” she agrees. She _does_. There's no denying it.

The hand around her torso begins to cup her breasts, fingers tugging at her nipples exactly how she likes it. It builds the sensation for her, turning the pleasure and muscle spasms into the start of something bigger, more intense.

“Fuck, Skye,” he pants in her ear. “I love having my cock inside you.”

His words make her shiver, and she likes it that he wants her as much as she wants him, that they seem to be so matched.

“Harder,” she pants as she starts to move herself against him, needing just a little more — she's not even sure that more is _possible_ , though. “Please, _harder_.”

Coulson rolls her all the way onto her front, climbing with her so that when he raises her hips thrusts back inside of her from behind, he can do it _hard_.

“Okay?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she answers as she presses her cheek into the bed beneath her.

He practically hammers his hips against hers in this position, and Skye angles herself so that his cock hits just right. Every thrust pushes her higher, further, and it's like all she can do is hold on and hope he can get her there.

“Faster,” Skye begs, “don't stop.”

Coulson grunts in return and keeps moving, harder and faster until Skye lets out an embarrassingly loud screech as she hits that something _more._

“Don't stop,” she keeps begging him, not wanting the sensation to end.

And he doesn't stop. It's good, almost too good, and she can feel her whole body break out in goosebumps, feel pleasure in every part of her body, on every inch of her skin, until she's practically incoherent.

She basically collapses underneath him, only dimly aware of the fact that Coulson rearranges them, spooning up behind her and holding onto her while she comes back to herself. Her whole body is still shaking when she turns and buries her face in his shoulder, heaving for breath, and it's like she feels so much that it has to get out somehow.

“I think I'm about to start crying,” she warns him, voice quiet against his neck, and Coulson nods against the side of her head as he runs soft hands down her back. “Good crying,” she clarifies.

“I know,” he whispers, kissing her hair as she breaks down into his shoulder.

And it _is_ good crying. She can't say she understands it, except that sometimes she comes so hard that it's like some emotional release button gets hit, so that every piece of stress she feels comes pouring out. And all that's left are good things, good feelings, Coulson's arms wrapped around her.

“Sorry,” she whispers as she finally gets a grasp on herself.

“You don't have to apologize,” he tells her. He always tells her that. The first time it happened, she thinks he was convinced she was reliving some terrible assault or sex-related incident, but he's learned to roll with it now. Learned to believe her that it's a good thing. And it's never happened with anyone else, so she does think it means something; like _really_ means something.

“But you didn't finish,” she informs him, as she can definitely still feel his erection pressed between them.

“I don't need to.”

“But I want —”

“Skye,” he cuts her off. “You're so tired, and —”

“Shut up, Phil.”

Skye rolls him onto his back and takes just a moment to wet her hand before wrapping it around his cock. She moves slow but squeezes hard — just like he likes it — and then reaches her lips up to his ear.

“I love you,” she tells him, earning her a soft moan as Coulson really lets himself go under her touch.

“I love you,” he answers back in a throaty whisper, “so much.”

“You make me feels so good,” she continues, soft voice just at his earlobe, and she knows that the way he's squirming under her touch is as much about her voice as it is her hand.

“Skye,” he moans her name.

“You take such good care of me. I just want to take care of you.”

“ _Skye_.”

“Come for me, Phil,” she whispers as she picks up the speed of her strokes just slightly, and he complies almost instantly.

“Skye, Skye, Skye,” he moans her name as she shudders under her hand, and then tugs her towards him, holding her body against his as he comes down. The deep, shuddering breaths he's taking are about more than his orgasm — are clearly about his own emotional release — and Skye holds him tightly.

And this is why she's not scared of how much he affects her. Because she knows Coulson is in it as deeply as she is, because she can see it tangibly in moments like this that are about so much more than the physical act of sex, than the fact of orgasm.

They fall asleep tangled around each other in a way they haven't for weeks, now, and Skye thinks that actually a few days away when they can just enjoy each other — without worries about HYDRA and Ward and other diviners — would be really perfect right now.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they stop to buy bathing suits, and I do not endorse sex in public changing rooms.

The next morning, just after dawn, May drops them in an airfield about a two hour's drive from the SHIELD safehouse.

May is definitely doing her best to pretend like she doesn't know what Skye and Coulson are going to get up to, but she has been a constant source of support since everything happened in Puerto Rico (since well before that, too) even with her willful ignorance of Skye and Coulson's relationship.

“I'll be back here on Sunday,” she informs them as they climb into Lola. “Noon. Don't be late.”

Coulson nods, though the unspoken is hanging in the air — May doesn't have much to threaten with besides a glare. She's not going to abandon the Director of SHIELD. (The other unspoken thing hanging in the air, though, is that Coulson isn't about to earn himself May's death glare.)

The drive is easy. Coulson doesn't push the speed too hard and Skye plays podcasts through Lola's newly configured Blu-tooth — something she convinced Coulson to add while Mack was fixing her up. It's nice and relaxing, especially as the air begins to take on the smell of the ocean.

“My family used to vacation around here,” Coulson tells her, once the third epsiode has ended and they're close enough that starting another one would be a pointless.

“You'd drive down here from Boston?”

“Right,” he agrees. “It's a more developed area now but it used to be nice.”

“It's not anymore?”

“No, I'm sure it will be,” he revises. “Especially since our spot is on private beach. But this area used to be more small businesses, fewer tourist spots. It was where working class people took a few days.”

Skye nods in understanding as they drive by a massive building dedicated to selling souvenirs.

“Did you come here with your father, then?” She's nervous asking the question because Coulson talks about his mother from time to time — enough that Skye doesn't feel awkward bringing her up — but he never willingly mentions his father.

She watches him in profile as he swallows, visibly closing down at the question.

“I'm sorry,” Skye cuts in on whatever thoughts are happening in his head. “I didn't mean to —”

“No.” Coulson shakes his head and looks over at her, just a hair longer than is probably safe, before turning his eyes back to the road. “No, you don't have to apologize. You're allowed to ask questions about my family, Skye.”

“And you're allowed to not answer them.”

He swallows again and turns his head towards her, narrowing his eyes as though trying to solve a puzzle.

“Vacations stopped after he was gone. Or at least ones like this, ones that weren't visiting my grandmother before she passed.”

“But you have good memories of the beach?” The silent _of your father at the beach_ hangs between them.

“He couldn't come a lot of the time. My mother and I would drive down, and he would show up for a day or two, and we'd swim out in the ocean and bodysurf waves back to shore.”

He sounds wistful at the memory, and Skye reaches out and grasps his hand, a light touch over his fingers on the gearshift.

“It's good memories, though,” he agrees. “Probably some of the best I have of him.”

She really wants to kiss him, to promise him that they'll make good memories together here, too, and it's like it's meant to be because he pulls up to a red light. Instantly, Skye has a hand around the back of his neck and her lips against his in a series of short, soft kisses.

He smiles against her lips as he kisses back, one hand in her hair while he applies more pressure and sucks gently at her lower lip.

A honk from behind them is what finally makes them break apart, though Skye stays bent into the center console so she can keep a hand on his thigh until he turns into a store that looks like a place to buy bathing suits in addition to touristy souvenirs. Because, not surprisingly, neither one of them have kept track of their bathing suits in the course of all of their moves and runs from the law.

“Does this look okay?” He asks the question with a skeptical face, and she can see why — the whole building looks horribly tacky _and_ terribly overpriced, exactly the kind of place meant to dupe vacationing families out of lots of money.

“It'll be fine,” she assures him. This should be an easy, quick trip after all, and it's early enough in the day that there's only one other car in the parking lot.

Inside, they separate towards the men's and women's sides of the store, and Skye turns her attention to swimwear. The first thing that catches her eye is a bikini, but she pauses as she picks it up. If she's honest, she's sort of assumed that her days of wearing bikinis — not that there have actually been that many of them in her life — are over. Her hand strays to her scar as she holds onto the scrap of lavender material that she likes, and she wonders if she even dares to try it on.

“I like you in that color,” Coulson whispers in her ear, snaking his arm around her middle.

“Yeah, the color's not the problem,” Skye answers.

A little girl in pigtails and a pink swimsuit with ruffles on the bottom races by, followed by a young woman who looks flustered and tired. She eyes Skye almost enviously, and it's strange to think of herself as someone who looks like she might have an enviable life. Skye smiles back kindly, and the woman runs back after her daughter.

Except for the bored looking teenage girl behind the counter, the mother and her two daughters are the only other occupants of the store, and they disappear into the women's changing room.

Once they're alone among the swimsuits again, Coulson's hand strays under her shirt to lay across her scars.

“You don't have to wear anything you don't want to,” he promises her, and Skye nods.

“I know. I just...I _want_ to wear it.”

“Then you should.”

She nods, and turns to place her hand over his heart.

“If other people were going to be around, would _you_ want to cover up?”

“Probably,” he admits.

Skye's hand slides down his torso and then under his shirt, dragging the material upwards so she can see the bottom of his stomach. He makes a lot of jokes about being old and flabby — usually when he's uncomfortable about someone flirting with him — but the fact is that he's really nicely toned.

“You'd be scared to show off how good you look because of your scar?” She asks as she slides her hand lower, dipping under the waistband of his jeans.

“Would you?” His voice is slightly flustered, but he makes no move to push her hand away.

“I don't know,” she answers honestly. “Maybe.”

“We don't have to worry about that, though,” he reminds her, and Skye nods.

“I never get to see you with your shirt off.” Between the idea of it and the feel of his stomach under her hand, she's starting to get a little excited.

“You've seen me naked plenty.”

“Yeah, but it's different. Sexy bathing suits and being outside.”

“True,” he agrees, scanning his eyes down her body until they slip closed at the feel of her hand cupping him over his jeans. “I want to see you in that.”

“You want to see me in it right now?”

It's like some magically serendipitous moment — if fooling around in a public dressing room can ever be the subject of serendipity — because there are literally no other men in the store and the bored girl behind the counter has turned around to count shell necklaces. Skye worries for a moment that Coulson will think it's beneath him to duck into a dressing room, but he grips her hand and tugs her after him while no one's looking.

Skye has to cover her mouth to hold back a startled giggle — that feeling of _getting away with something_ — and Coulson doesn't look much better before he slides a hand up behind her head and lures her into a kiss.

“Turn around,” she mumbles against his mouth between heavy, sensual kisses that promise that they're going to do things in this dressing room that might get them arrested.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to wait until I'm dressed to see me.”

He furrows his brow but nods and pulls back from her in order to turn around. Of course, he's facing away from the full-length mirror while Skye looks into it, so she gets a pretty good view of him as he strips off his jeans and tshirt.

She does the same, taking off her clothes before pulling on the bikini in question.

It's light purple with a strapless bandeau top and hip-hugging boyshorts on the bottom, which leave a lot of the lower curves of her ass exposed. She sort of thinks Coulson will like it.

Changing is pretty quick, but Skye spends an extra few minutes looking at herself in the bathing suit. It's not that the scars make her ugly — they don't, and she knows it — but there's something terrifying about exposing that part of herself. Even if it is private, it's still the promise of wearing it outside, still more exposed than she's been since she got shot in the first place. It's still scary.

(And she can only imagine how much worse it is for Coulson, whose scar is so much more prominent.)

Skye finally looks up from her scars to glance back at Coulson in the mirror, expecting to see his bare back, but she instead sees his face.

“You cheated,” she accuses, before she notices the look on his face — mouth a little slack and eyes practically smoldering. Slowly, Skye turns to face him and watches as he swallows and then drags his tongue across his lower lip.

“Skye.”

“You like it?”

“God, yes.”

His voice is low and serious, five stages past flirty, and she has a hard time dragging her gaze away from his eyes. When she does, though, she's greeted with the bare skin and salt-and-pepper hair of his torso. His scar is there — present, noticeable, but just part of him, not any sort of distraction from how good he looks.

The swim shorts are light blue and sit low on his hips, tight fitted across the front so she can almost make out the shape of his erection, and they're short. Really short. Short enough that the tightly bunched muscles of his thighs — which are a feature she doesn't appreciate often enough — are shown off really well.

“Turn around.”

He does, letting her see how tight the shorts are in the back, and she can't quite stop herself from reaching out to touch.

When he turns back around, his erection is even more visible, and Skye thinks maybe he likes being looked at like this. Which is probably good because she definitely likes looking.

“They might be a little snug,” he suggests as he adjusts his cock inside the shorts.

“Oh, I think they're perfect,” Skye corrects him.

“As long as I don't get hard while I'm wearing them.”

“You're going to get hard while you're wearing them, Phil.”

“Are you planning to tease me on the beach?” He manages to sound scandalized, though the grin he's biting back is too obvious.

“Definitely. And when they get too uncomfortable, I'll take care of you.”

Coulson licks his lips and presses his hand against his cock.

“They're pretty uncomfortable right now,” he suggests, though he still seems surprised when Skye pushes him up against the back wall and shoves the shorts down his thighs enough to wrap her fingers around him.

He groans as she strokes him, so she stops long enough to shush him.

“We're in a public place, Coulson.” Her voice is actually serious instead of flirty, and he takes notice. “You have to stay quiet.”

He nods adamantly, so she sinks to her knees in front of him and leans forward to lick the head of his cock. She's sure for a minute that he's going to moan — probably moan her name — but instead he bites down on his lower lip and stays quiet.

“Good boy,” she whispers, watching a silent shudder run through his body at the praise before she leans forward and sucks him into her mouth. He watches raptly as his cock disappears between her lips, and then holds her gaze until he has to slam his eyes closed for a moment. It's one of the things she likes about doing this for him — the way he watches her with something like awe.

Coulson's breathing is instantly ragged — she knows it's partially the effort involved in staying quiet, which isn't easy for him. When she looks up at him to praise his silence, though, she's surprised to see him staring past her instead of looking down. Skye pulls away long enough to look behind her, where she's greeted with the mirror image of her mostly-naked ass kneeling in front of mostly-naked Coulson.

“Enjoying the view?” She asks him softly.

“God, yes,” he replies. “You're so hot in that bikini.”

“Lucky you, I'll be wearing it a lot this weekend.”

He caresses her face for moment before he reaches down further and runs soft fingers along her bare collarbone and then to the top hem of her bathing suit. Slowly, he tugs the top band of elastic out a little bit and easily flips it down below her breasts.

“Lucky me,” he agrees, cupping her breasts gently in his hands.

Coulson shuts his eyes again and tilts his head back on the dressing room wall, but when Skye leans forward enough to blow hot breath on the tip of his cock, he pushes her back.

“Too much,” he pants. “Stand up.”

She does, and is only a little surprised to find herself turned and pressed back against the wall. Coulson takes a moment to suck on her nipples before he slides his thumbs into the sides of her shorts and pushes them down past her hips, leaving her to wiggle out of them and kick them away.

He then lifts her right leg and presses his cock up between her thighs, letting her reach between them to guide it to her entrance. While she tilts her hips to line them up, Coulson lifts her just slightly and thrusts into her as he pushes her harder against the wall. Skye wraps her legs tightly around his waist and uses her arms on his shoulders to help hold herself up at the best angle.

“God,” he grunts against the side of her face as he lays open-mouthed kisses from her cheek to her ear and then down her neck, where he latches on as a way to keep his mouth occupied. “Going to be fast,” he warns her quietly, at which Skye laughs.

“We've probably been too long already.”

He nods and then begins to work his hips against hers in hard, fast snaps that bring her instantly on edge. What really pushes her over, though, is looking behind him to the sight of Coulson's bare ass and her legs holding on just above it — whether it's the thought that they look really hot together or the thought that this is what someone might see if they came in the room right now, she's not sure.

Either way, it's over quickly — Skye clenching tightly around him as Coulson loses himself in her, pressing her even harder against the wall.

He finally sets her down and collapses onto the wall beside her, and Skye's almost aroused again at the image they make, freshly fucked and mostly naked and very much in public.

“You should definitely get that one,” Skye tells him, pointing down to the swim shorts that are still binding his thighs together.

“I'm not sure I could part with it, now,” Coulson replies.

“And I should get this one?”

“You look gorgeous in it,” he confirms. “But if you want to model a few more...”

Skye laughs and shakes her head.

“Let's go to the beach.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which sun screen is applied. Thoroughly.

Once they're unpacked — which doesn't take long, since they haven't brought that much — they head straight out to the beach.

It's a bigger production than Skye had imagined it would be — an umbrella, chairs, a bag with 'essentials,' a cooler of water bottles, and a large beach blanket that Coulson spreads out on the sand and then holds in place with their flip flops.

Skye stands back in the wide-brimmed straw hat and white sarong she picked out to go with her suit and watches Coulson set everything up. It's a pretty nice thing to watch, actually, as he bends over the blanket and stretches up to position the umbrella and generally shows off his body really nicely.

“The last time I was at the beach, we pretty much just dropped our towels in the sand,” she tells him.

Coulson shrugs and looks almost sheepish.

“This is the way my mother always liked to do it. She'd sit in a chair under an umbrella reading while I played in the ocean.”

Skye smiles at the setup, and then leans forward to kiss Coulson softly on the lips.

“You want me to rub lotion on you?” She gestures down to the bottle of sunscreen he'd bought at the souvenir shop, and he nods his agreement as he passes her the bottle.

“Lie down,” she instructs, earning a raised eyebrow before he does as she's asked, collapsing backwards on the large blanket. Skye supposes that actually she doesn't need to do his front — he could do it himself — but he seems game to let her do it for him. He watches her with rapt attention as she strips off her sarong and hat before taking a seat between his legs.

She squeezes a large pool of lotion into her hands and starts at his right leg. A nudge under his knee, and Coulson takes the hint to bend it, giving her easy access to all sides. Her hands slide from his ankle up to his knee, and then slowly up his thigh. She rubs into the muscles on the front of his thigh before using a lighter touch to circle around the outside and up the back, brushing almost at his butt.

He makes a quiet sigh as her fingers dip further under the back of his suit, and then groans when she moves up his inner thigh. She slides a finger up under his suit to brush against the spot below his balls, and when he exhales hard and lifts his hips — as though inviting her to touch him more — she's a little surprised.

“Now this one,” she tells him, tapping on his left knee so that he bends it the same way.

“Skye,” he sighs her name as her hand disappears from beneath his suit and lands on his left ankle.

Again, she works slowly from ankle to knee to thigh, rubbing the lotion into his skin while also taking the chance to feel out the muscle groups under her fingers. When she brushes up his inner thigh, this time Coulson immediately raises his hips, making it easy for her to slip her fingers up under his suit.

She's inexplicably nervous as she presses against the area below his balls, and he groans at the sensation before she traces up the inner netting of his suit. She can't reach his cock this way — the suit is too snug to allow for that, but she can see that he's hard again. She pulls back slowly, dragging her fingers back down along his skin.

“Skye,” he sort of _whimpers_ her name.

“You okay?”

“More than,” he agrees, though his breathing is coming hard and fast.

“I'm going to do your chest now,” she informs him as she climbs over him and seats herself so that she's straddling the erection in his shorts.

“Yes,” he agrees as though she's asked a question.

This time, Skye squirts the lotion directly onto his chest and uses her fingers to begin working it down. She makes slow, deep circles against his abdomen — smoothing out and down his sides and then across the waistband of his shorts. Coulson groans when her fingers dip under the waistband, and then groans louder when she slides them back up his chest.

“Skye,” he grunts her name and grinds himself up against her. She's already wet from touching him — from watching his reactions to her touches — and the feel of him pressing up against her makes her shudder with want. She holds it back, though, and tries to look like she's in control of the situation. It's not a terribly difficult task when Coulson is starting to look so desperate.

“Almost done with your front,” she tells him as her hands slide up his chest, rubbing lotion up to his neck. Carefully, and very deliberately, she drags the back of her fingernails across his nipples, making him buck his hips up against her in near-desperation.

“Christ, Skye.”

Skye finally raises up on her knees, taking pressure off of his cock in order to lean over him and rub lotion into his face. Coulson is breathing hard as she walks herself up his torso on her knees, until she's able to reach his forehead.

As she massages her fingers into his face, she's not terribly surprised to feel his hands slide up the backs of her legs in order to cup her butt. His fingers play along the edge of her shorts, squeezing the bare part of her ass, and Skye almost loses control of herself before she's finally able to pull back.

“Turn over,” she orders him.

Coulson frowns, but drops his hands and lets her move off of him so he can turn onto his front.

Once he's face down, Skye starts with his right arm, massaging lotion from his wrist up to his shoulder and tracing along all the major muscle groups as she goes.

“I wish you wore short sleeves more,” she whispers, as she finishes his right shoulder and moves to his left arm.

“Oh?” His voice is a little high pitched, and she can see the way he's sort of pulsing his hips against the ground.

“Mmmhmm. You have really nice arms. I like seeing them.” She works her fingers up his arm, covering both front and back, until she's up to his left shoulder.

“Not very professional,” he answers, though it sounds like he's having trouble being coherent.

“A lot of what we do isn't very professional.”

Coulson sort of laughs at that, and then Skye climbs over him and settles lightly on his butt. She squeezes a thick line of lotion down his spine and then sets to work at his neck. She sweeps the lotion up, making sure to cover the back of his neck and the tops of his shoulders — aware of the actual intent of this exercise — but then she sinks into a more focused massage as Coulson groans beneath her.

“That good?” She asks quietly as she presses into a knot in the center of his back.

“Yes,” he moans, and she can almost feel him relaxing more and more, sinking into the ground.

It strikes her, as she's pressing her fingers down his spine, that the last memories he has of being massaged like this are probably the false ones implanted by Project TAHITI. She swallows back anger and fear at that and works harder at making him feel really good.

“Skye,” he sighs her name again when she runs her fingers under the waistband at the back of his swim shorts. And yeah, she's technically done, but she has every plan to continue when Coulson instead presses himself up on his forearms. “Do I get to do you now?”

“Yes,” she agrees, and allows herself to be laid out on her front, so that Coulson can start by rubbing lotion into her back while he sits beside her on the blanket.

He's slow and methodical as he works lotion into her arms and shoulders, but Skye is already too worked up to really relax under his touch. She desperately wants it _elsewhere_.

“Coulson,” she moans his name and squeezes her thighs together as she thinks about it, feels the desire build and a rush of arousal between her legs.

“Hmm,” he sighs, and she can practically hear his smirk as his hands skim down her sides and across her lower back. He presses there, a firm touch that makes no hint of teasing under her swimsuit, and Skye groans.

And then it's like he's gone for a moment, until his hands are at her ankles. The lotion is startlingly cool against her skin, which is already warm from the sun, and she can't deny that it feels good, even if she wants more.

Whereas Skye had done his whole leg at once, Coulson focuses only on the backs of her legs, drawing his fingers in soft patterns up her calves and then to her thighs.

“You have such gorgeous legs,” he tells her, his voice thick with desire. She knows this — or, well, she knows he thinks it. She knows he could spent hours touching her legs, and he has more than once.

His hands slip onto her inner thighs, and Skye parts her legs wider, being probably a little too obvious about what she wants. Coulson is slow, though. Like, ridiculously slow, with fingers that rub back down to her knee for every extra half inch he lets them roam up her inner thighs, until Skye is _literally_ aching with her desire to feel his hand between her legs.

“Phil,” she moans his name and lifts her hips, pushing them backwards.

“Turn over,” he instructs, at which Skye groans.

“ _Phil_.”

“Turn over. I'll make it worth your while.”

She's shaking a little bit as she lands on her back and watches Coulson lick his lips as he first draws his lotion-covered fingers across her face, then down her neck and over the top of her collarbone. Her breath comes in slow, deep pants as his hands brush over her breasts in the course of rubbing lotion on her bare skin.

When he finally dips a finger under the elastic band holding her top up, Skye can't stop herself from thrusting her chest up towards him. Coulson meets her eyes as he stretches up the elastic and then tugs it down in order to run his lotion-covered hands over her breasts.

“Coulson,” Skye groans, feeling the answering pulse between her legs.

His hands are firm as he cups her breasts, massaging lotion into her skin before dragging his fingers over her nipples. And then his hands are gone, reapplying lotion and moving down to rub into her stomach.

“ _God_ , Coulson, _please_.”

He just smiles down at her and rubs from under her still-bared breasts to the top of her bikini bottoms. His fingers dip under the waistband, and Skye lifts her hips, fully in support of being stripped naked on the beach. Coulson just pulls his hands away, though, and she groans as he instead moves to sit between her legs.

His hands are slow and deliberate on the front of her legs, too — changing between running his palms over as much of her as he can touch and dragging his fingers in soft patterns that slowly creep higher, until his hands are once more teasing up her inner thighs, right at the edges of her bathing suit.

Skye breathes hard as she raises her hips against his hands, gratified when Coulson finally slips a finger beneath her suit, barely brushing against her. She shudders and pushes her hips up further against him, only to groan again when he pulls away.

“Just a minute,” he promises, and she can see the way his own hands are shaking as he reaches into the cooler and extracts a bottle of water. He pours some over his hands and then wipes them on the blanket, rinsing away extra lotion before his finger stray back under her bathing suit. She can't say she would have thought of that on her own.

She's already so on edge that when his finger slips easily up against her clit, she's a breath away from orgasm. He makes soft circles against her, barely brushing where she needs it, and building the sensation to a warm, tingling rush that spreads down her legs.

And then, when she thinks she's about to combust with want, he pushes two fingers inside of her, filling her quickly and thrusting hard so that she falls into an easy orgasm. Coulson makes no move to stop, though, and instead moves his fingers faster as he works her through it and towards another. As he fucks her with his fingers, he crawls up her body and kisses her. It hits her hard, being worked up and exposed outside like she is, but he works her through the sensations until she feels well and truly finished.

He rolls them over as she's panting for breath, positioning her so she's curled half on top of him and he can lean down to kiss the top of her head.

“I'm glad we came to the beach,” Skye tells him, earning a quiet chuckle.

“I'm glad you got that suit,” he answers.

Skye nuzzles into his shoulder and lays a soft kiss on his neck.

“I think I'd like to go for a swim,” Coulson tells her, sort of stopping her from further exploration.

“But you haven't...” Skye slides her hand down his stomach, only to have him catch it and hold it back.

“I'd rather wait.”

For later, she knows. He'd rather not come now so that he can be sure that he'll be able to fuck her later. He talks about it sometimes like it's a joke, but the fact is that Coulson is sort of weirdly sensitive about his age and the idea that he can't satisfy her as often as she'd probably like it. It's frankly stupid, given that she's had more sex with him than she has with anyone else in her life, and she's wondered before about how horny he must have been as a twenty-six year old to feel like he should be capable of more now. But its also a closed topic between them — when she's pressed this before, he's assured her that he likes to wait, likes to have the build up, that it makes for better orgasms later.

And, well, she's not going to try to talk him out of something that's good for his own pleasure in the end. Plus, she's never been with a man who was actually capable of thinking about _later_ while as turned on as Coulson clearly still is. There's something she likes about it, about the way he treats sex as something more than a momentary event. (Of course, it also makes it fun, sometimes, to force him to give into sex as a momentary event.)

“If you want,” Skye agrees.

“Do you want to swim with me?”

“Hmm,” she sighs, her body still humming and her limbs languid. “I think I'd rather say here and lounge.”

“That's good,” he agrees as he rolls her onto her back and props himself above her. “That way I can tell May you got some rest.”

Skye laughs, and Coulson dips his head to kiss her, his tongue slow and easy as he explores the contours of her mouth. When he pulls away, his eyes are drawn down to her breasts. He licks his lips almost obscenely and then tugs her bathing suit back into place, as though covering temptation.

“I won't be long,” he promises before he stands up and walks towards the water.

Skye half-sits up and grabs her sunglasses out of Coulson's beach bag so she can lean back on her hands and watch him walk away. The blue swim shorts are tight across his butt, and she appreciates the view as he steps into the surf and lets the water wash over his ankles. He's slow at first as he steps into the water, moving a little at a time until he's finally sunk down up to his neck. She loses her view of him for a moment as he swims out into the water, and then she can see him pop up past the seemingly-arbitrary spot where the waves start to break, showing lines of white foam. Once he's in the comparatively still water, he begins to swim parallel to the shoreline, and she can just make out the shape of his arms breaking the surface. He's a strong swimmer, which isn't a skill she's gotten to see before, and she remembers what he said about swimming out in the ocean with his father and bodysurfing the waves in.

With Coulson out in the water, the solitude of her current position dawns on Skye.

There's literally _nothing_ except for empty beach, ocean, and their lone bungalow visible in any direction, and with the sun warming her Skye can feel herself fully relax for the first time in...she doesn't know how long. Sitting outside — really, just being outside at all — is one of the little things that she forgets that she misses.

Like, living in a secret base — much of which is underground — means that there isn't much opportunity for opening windows or sitting in back yards. When she does get to be outside, it's usually because she's on a mission. And it's not like she was nature girl before she joined up with SHIELD or something — she wasn't, she spent most days in her van and rarely left major cities because WiFi, duh — but it turns out that it's really easy to take the feel of sun on your face for granted.

A cool breeze of the ocean ruffles her hair, so the pulls is up into a loose bun before she turns on her front on the beach blanket and falls into a light doze, lulled by the sound of ocean waves.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Coulson finally gets wet. (Skye, too.)

A seagull wakes her up.

She's less startled than just reminded that the world around her exists, and the skin on her back feels warm, so she turns over to let her front get the sun instead.

It's hot, hot enough that sweat is collecting around her hairline, but the breeze off the water makes for a pleasant contrast.

Skye's not actually that familiar with beaches. For all that she lived in LA for a few years, she didn't really drive out to the coast that often. And she has virtually no family vacation experiences — she was never with a family long enough to go on a family vacation — so her first beach visit actually happened when Miles drove her from Austin to Galveston. It was crowded and brown and really not at all like this. The beaches near LA were nicer, but she's never been to an empty one before.

And she's definitely never really been in the ocean, at least not like Coulson is in the ocean. It's sort of terrifying if she thinks about it too much — him out there on the edge of an enormous body of water — and she wonders if she'll be able to work up the guts to go in with him later.

She probably will. Lack of guts has never been her problem.

And as though her thoughts of him call him up, she can see Coulson making his way back out of the water. He stands up a little ways out and then seems to sort of let himself fall with a wave, allowing it to carry him much closer to the shore. When he stands up again, the water is only just brushing his thighs, and he walks the rest of the way out of the surf as small waves beat against his calves.

Again, she sits up to watch, tilting her sunglasses down her nose to make sure she gets the best view.

Drops of water cling to his chest and slide down his torso, little crystal beads that catch the light and run down the toned length of his body.

When he looks over and meets her gaze, his lips quirk into a smug grin.

And for all that he can be weird about the age thing, Coulson knows he's hot.

“Enjoying the view?”

“Yes,” she answers, not remotely hiding her enjoyment. “You want to turn around?” She circles her finger, indicating that he should give her a turn, and Coulson's smugness finally turns towards embarrassment as he complies. And yeah, his ass still looks great in those shorts.

He takes the last few steps to bring him to the edge of the beach blanket and then drops to his knees, right at her feet.

“You should come get in the water with me.”

“Isn't it cold?”

Coulson smiles and lowers his lips to her right knee, letting drops of water fall from his skin onto hers. It is definitely cold, especially against how warm her skin is from the sun, but it feels good.

“Yes. But it's a good cold.”

“Especially for certain problems?” Skye raises her other foot to press against his groin.

“That, too.”

His lips continue up her leg, not kissing so much as dragging his open mouth upwards and letting water drip onto her skin.

“That feels good,” Skye sighs, at which he laughs before turning his head and pressing his wet hair against her stomach.

Skye shrieks at the ticklish, cold sensation and tries to roll away from him, only to be trapped when he falls forward on his hands, catching himself on either side of her head. Slowly, he lets his whole body press against hers as he kisses her.

“Doesn't that feel good?” He whispers against her lips, and it does — the sensation of his cold skin pressing against hers, his cold lips heating up against hers, and his cock growing hard again as he presses himself against her.

“Yes.”

And then he pulls back, so he's once again kneeling on the edge of the blanket.

“Come on,” he offers her a hand to pull her up, and Skye frowns at him.

“I've never really done more than stand at the edge of the water.”

He squints and blinks at her as though the idea of that is absurd, and then his face melts into a flirty smile.

“So this would be your first time?”

Skye rolls her eyes, but can't quite stop a stupid answering grin.

“I'll be gentle,” he promises, earning a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” she agrees. He must be able to read some of the nerves on her face, though, because he smiles reassuringly.

“The waves are pretty easy today. It'll be fine.”

Coulson grips her hand and tugs her up with him. Once she's standing, he takes the opportunity to run his free hand down her back before walking back towards the water, keeping her hand closed in his. As they approach the edge of the surf, he slows down and lets her walk in front of him.

Skye gasps at the cold water around her ankles and darts backwards until she runs into Coulson's chest.

“That's _freezing_ ,” she protests.

“It's not freezing. It just feels extra cold to you because you've been lying in the sun.”

She frowns at him, not really seeing a functional difference between those two statements.

“It'll be fun,” he promises.

“It better be,” she answers, raising a falsely accusing eyebrow. “There's a lot of pressure on you to make this good.”

Couslon laughs and drags her back towards the water, where she lets her ankles get wet. And Skye doesn't have a lot of experience with the ocean, but she's been swimming in pools plenty, so she knows how to adjust when plunging immediately in isn't an option. Slowly, she bends forward and scoops up some water in her palms, which she sort of flings down the back of her neck. It makes her gasp, but her body starts to adjust to the temperature as she gathers more water and dumps it down her front.

When she turns back to Coulson, he's watching her with a slightly-open mouthed expression, eyes drifting from her face down to her breasts and then down to her legs.

Despite the intensity in his gaze, Skye is surprised when Coulson grips her waist and pulls her into a kiss, letting his hand roam up into her hair as he sucks at her lower lip. When he stops, he sucks in a shaky breath against her lips before his eyes pop open so he can stare down at her.

“Have I mentioned how gorgeous you are?”

Skye smiles and kisses him again, allowing herself to be walked backwards until waves hitting at her knees begin to make her feel unstable. They break apart, and Coulson guides her deeper into the water — officially deeper than she's ever willingly gone — and the crashing waves come up so high that they have to dive underneath.

She pops up laughing, only to be smacked in the face by another wave of saltwater.

Coulson basically pulls her out deeper, until they're treading water and the waves are no longer breaking on them, and she's surprised by how tranquil it feels as the water just gently lifts her with every motion. She relaxes and lets herself float on her back.

“We're not going to get, like, sucked out to sea, are we?” She's mostly joking.

“We're fine,” he promises her. “We just want to keep the umbrella in sight.”

“Hmm,” she agrees. “You can do that?”

“Yeah,” he answers, and then she feels his hands on her ankles, pulling her gently through the water. “Why have you never been in the ocean before?”

“Because I haven't?”

“I mean, I understand that with your childhood, it's unlikely you got to go to the beach.”

“Not until I was almost twenty,” she confirms.

“But why not then?”

“It's always sort of freaked me out,” she answers honestly. “There's...stuff...in the water.”

“Stuff?”

“Yup.”

Coulson laughs at that and tugs her so that he can swim up between her legs, and she half-wraps her legs around his torso while remaining on her back. The water is just deep enough that Coulson can sort of bounce against the bottom without getting his head wet, which adds to the gentle bobbing sensation, but is still relaxing.

“So why were you willing to try this out today?”

“Stuff seems less scary now.” With as much as she's seen and felt and been through, being freaked out by a fish or some seaweed seems a little ridiculous.

Coulson is silent at her admission, but the bad kind of silent. The kind of silent that means he's thinking too hard and blaming himself for something, and then she feels his hand stray over the scars on her belly. Skye sits up, legs wrapped firmly around Coulson so that she's holding onto his bobbing form as he sinks just enough to hit the bottom and then bob back up. Her legs are high enough up that her head is several inches above him, and he sort of nuzzles her neck, just below her ear.

“Phil —”

“Do you ever wish that you could go back to a time when stuff in the water was still scary?”

“No.”

The look he gives her says that he thinks she's definitely lying.

“Well, I wish it for you.”

“Then stop wishing it,” Skye tells him. “It's not like my life was perfect before. I was afraid of plenty of things more scary than stuff in the water.”

He nods, and she feels his hands pressing into her back.

“I wish I could stop bad things from happening to you.” He says it almost embarrassed, like it's a moral failing on his part, and she kisses him softly and then harder as he responds.

“You think I don't wish the same? That I could protect you from ever getting hurt?”

Coulson kisses her in response, hard and almost desperate, especially considering the overwhelming tranquility of the situation. If her first response is to be worried, though, it dissipates when his tongue slides over her lower lip and his hands dip down to cup her ass and press her harder against him. As she rocks against him, the crotch of her shorts pulls tighter between her legs, putting pressure right over her clit with each movement of her hips.

“Oh,” she sighs and continues the motion, which Coulson encourages as he squeezes her ass.

His lips wander down her neck, and then he hitches her up higher so that her breasts are level with his mouth. He nuzzles against the the fabric of her bikini until she takes pity on him and tugs it down, exposing her breasts to him. Her nipples are already hard and sensitive from the water, but once they're bare and wet in the cool breeze, they tighten even more. Coulson's warm mouth closing over her right nipple is shockingly good — the combined sensations of cold and hot, paired with the sharp tug as he sucks hard.

“ _Coul_ son.”

She can feel him smile against her breast as she runs her fingers up into his hair and directs him to the other one. The sudden tug of warmth on her left nipple is followed by a similar rush between her legs, and Skye's hips go into overdrive, rocking against his chest and the pull of her suit between her legs.

“Are you going to come just from my mouth on your breasts?”

“Yes,” she answers, shuddering at the sensation and the question and the fact that she's dry humping Coulson in the ocean.

He's so _smug_ about that as he moves to suck her right nipple back into his mouth, and when he scrapes his teeth over it gently, Skye groans helplessly, her hips almost moving of their own volition.

“I'm going to make you come so many times this weekend,” he promises her, though the words are slightly muffled by the way his mouth is still pressed against her breast.

“Uh-huh,” she agrees. “ _Phil._ ”

Coulson nips harder, just a little edge of pain paired with his hands squeezing harder on her ass, and Skye bucks against his chest as she comes. It's surprisingly strong, harder than she'd have expected, but Coulson is prepared to catch her as she melts into his embrace.

His hands are soothing — offering comfort as she relaxes into his arms — and Skye smiles against his shoulder.

“Is this why you wanted to go swimming with me?”

“No,” he laughs. “I just thought it would be fun.”

“It _was_ fun,” she agrees, and lays herself backwards, so she's once again floating on her back with her legs wrapped around his middle. Her breasts are still bared to the sun, and Skye only has to crane her neck a little bit to see Coulson staring down at them longingly.

“Mmmhmm.”

“You know that even with all the bad things that have happened, I'm still glad I'm where I am. I'm glad I know about SHIELD. I'm glad I know _you_.”

“Me, too,” he replies and runs a soft hand down her torso.

“I'm being serious,” Skye scolds him. Coulson smiles and meets her eyes briefly before Skye lays her head back, trying to soften her neck as much as she can in this position.

“I know. So am I. I love what we have.” He swallows. “ _This_ ,” he tells her, his tone incredibly suggestive, “but also having you with me every day. In my office. In the field.”

She sits up to kiss him once more and then drops her legs from around him, using his abdomen as a springboard to push herself forward and him back.

“Catch me,” she calls back at him as she swims away, parallel with the coast and towards their umbrella, which they've managed to drift away from.

Coulson follows her immediately, and she's surprised by how quickly she feels his hands grasping at her ankles. Skye manages to corkscrew away, and they chase each other through the water until the need for lunch overwhelms their need to have fun.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Coulson cooks dinner. Naked.

Coulson brought cereal and bread and cheese — enough to tide them over for a few simple breakfasts and lunches — but they have to drive the thirty minutes into town for him to buy the ingredients to make her crab cakes for dinner.

He's cooked for her before, but it's not some sort of regular thing. It can't be a regular thing, between their secrecy and Skye's frequent missions away and their shared mounting responsibilities. So when he rolls up his sleeves and starts forming patties out his crab mixture, Skye takes a seat at the bar and watches while sipping on a glass of chardonnay.

She _really_ likes to watch him cook. It wouldn't be bad if he were less clothed, though.

It's after he's finished shaping the patties and is heating the electric griddle that he meets her eyes. He's just a little bit sunburned across the tops of his cheeks and his nose, but she swears he blushes.

“Enjoying the show?”

“Very much,” Skye agrees as she finishes off her wine and holds out her glass across the top of the bar for a refill. “It would be better if you took your shirt off, though.”

He blinks at her and pours too much wine in her glass before he catches himself.

When he looks back down at the griddle, she thinks he's going to just brush her comment off, but instead he nods.

“I'm not using much oil, so it won't really spatter.”

And then he starts to unbutton his shirt.

“Slower,” Skye requests, though it comes out a bit more like an order. If she's worried about softening it, though, she doesn't get a chance to before Coulson complies.

His fingers are slow and methodical on each button, and he meets her gaze sort of brazenly as Skye sips her wine and watches. Once he slips out of the shirt, he raises his eyebrows — as though seeking approval — and Skye smiles.

“Pants, now.”

He's already been barefoot in the kitchen — a thought which makes her smile — and she watches as he slides his hands down his naked chest in order to rest at the button of his jeans. Slowly, he thumbs the button open and then drags the zipper down.

The jeans are relatively tight, so he has to push them down, and whether he means to or not, his boxer briefs go with them. He pauses before exposing himself, leaving her with the view of the flat plane where his chest hair tapers off and his pubic hair begins, framed by the lines of his hip bones. She loves this view, Coulson framed out like a man in a pin-up calendar.

“Off,” she tells him, surprised by how excited she is as he complies. He bends forward to get his jeans all the way off and then kicks the pile out of the kitchen towards the small dining room table.

When he faces her again, his cock is only half-hard, so that it hangs longer and thicker than usual between his legs, but as she watches, Skye can see it fill out, getting harder under her gaze. She loves watching this process; she even more loves feeling it, wrapping her lips around him and feeling him get hard in her mouth. Just the thought of it makes her wet, and she sucks her lower lip into her mouth as she squeezes her thighs together.

“Fuck, Skye,” he groans, making her snap her gaze back up to his eyes.

She leans back on her stool and picks her glass of wine back up, letting the heat of the moment dissipate a little bit.

“So you're going to cook me those crabcakes now?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, obvious bravado covering for the fact that he's actually a little nervous.

“Are you planning on getting undressed, too?”

“Not, yet,” she answers, sipping her wine and playing at being unaffected. “I thought I'd enjoy the show.”

His smile is adorable, a little embarrassed and a little flattered, as he gamely sets back to work. Luckily, the counter-top — and therefore the electric griddle sitting on top of it — hits close to his belly button, and he doesn't seem to be in any danger as he slides his patties down onto the lightly oiled surface.

Then he turns towards preparing a salad, chopping vegetables with practiced ease. It really is better to watch when he's naked, she decides. She can appreciate every movement he makes, every bunch and stretch of muscle, in addition to the delicate, careful way he uses his hands.

Dinner comes together almost too quickly for Skye's tastes, though. It's simple — just the crab cakes and a salad — and it smells delicious, but she's not done looking at him, yet. And with her lower body pulsing with arousal, she's not sure she could eat anyways.

“Can you keep those warm in the oven?”

Coulson nods, still fully hard as he steps away from the counter to grab a baking sheet and put the oven on low. He finishes quickly and then washes his hands in the sink before turning to her expectantly.

“Bedroom?”

She nods and slides off the stool, leaving behind her half-full glass of wine as she precedes him into the bedroom. When he reaches for her, though, Skye steps back out of his grasp.

“Lie down, okay?”

Coulson looks nervous — like actually really _nervous —_ as he approaches the bed, though, so she stops him long enough to kiss him softly. He groans against her lips, and she realizes that part of what she's reading as nerves is actually arousal and anticipation.

She deepens the kiss, pressing her still-clothed self against Coulson's nakedness, and he moans into her mouth but otherwise stays passive — doesn't grab for her, just lets himself be kissed.

“I want to watch you,” she whispers, when she's pulled back long enough to breathe. Coulson releases a shuddering stream of air in response.

“ _Fuck_.”

His hand strays to his cock, fists tightly around it for a moment before releasing. She takes that to mean that he's on board with this; he's usually on board with it.

“Lie down.”

He does, crawling backwards on the bed while Skye seats herself at the foot.

And then his hand is on his cock, squeezing tight in between slow strokes. His breath comes in a falsely slow, steady rhythm — he is clearly trying to keep himself in control.

“Tell me what you want,” Skye requests as she watches the slow play of his fingers. He doesn't ever like to rush things, Phil Coulson; he likes to take his sweet time.

“To eat your pussy,” he answers, voice low and gravelly and clearly caught up in this.

His words and his voice and the sight of him before her sends a rush of warmth between her legs, makes her tight and aching and suddenly desperate for his touch.

“How?”

He looks over at her as she stands up off the bed, his eyes glued to her hands on the button at the front of her jeans. She freezes, though, when he doesn't answer.

“How, Phil?”

“I don't care,” he answers, finally. “However you want it.”

She undoes the button on her jeans as he speaks, but stops again when his voice fades.

“Pick.”

His eyes are honed in on her fingers — he's practically willing her to strip more — and he licks his lips obscenely as he catches onto her game.

“Like this. You on top of me.”

“Really?”

She unzips her jeans and pushes them down her legs.

“Yes. You holding onto the headboard and squeezing your thighs around my head.”

“Oh?”

She kicks her jeans away and lets her shirt fall past her hips to almost cover her panties. His hand keeps moving, so slowly, on his cock and she can practically _feel_ his gaze on the tops of her thighs.

“Yes. I love it when you grind down on my face.”

She tugs her shirt up over her head and drops it on the floor, making Coulson fall silent at the same moment that his hand pulls away from his cock.

“You stopped,” she informs him, to which Coulson nods, seemingly unable to take his eyes off of her. “Keep touching yourself, Phil.”

His hand slides down past his cock to tug on his balls, clearly avoiding any kind of touch that will bring him off.

“I want to make you come, Skye,” he tells her, his hand wrapping low on his shaft as she reaches behind her back to unhook her bra. It falls forward off her arms as he continues,“I want to make you come and then I want you to ride me.”

Her fingers slip into her panties and then down to rub her clit as she watches him touch himself. It's a struggle to not just strip the rest of the way down and climb on top of him, and she honestly has a hard time remembering why that should be a problem. Admittedly, her game here is supposed to be one of making _him_ desperate while she keeps her cool, but she can't say she minds this outcome.

Skye slips her panties off and then climbs onto the bed, straddling Coulson's stomach. His hands are immediately at her back, pulling her down into a kiss as one runs up her spine and into her hair. She sinks into it for a moment, enjoying his hands on her and his body under hers, and then pulls back. Coulson pants for breath beneath her, and his hips buck gently on the bed — clearly an involuntary movement, as he's getting no friction.

She takes pity on him, then — or at least that's how the part of her that's trying to stay in charge frames it — and crawls up his body as he slides down the sheets a little to give her room. His hands on her lower back guide her down over his mouth, and his tongue is pressing up against her before shes even settled.

“God, Coulson,” she grunts, and he lets out a long, low moan in return. It somehow makes her even more turned on, and she grinds down against his chin as his tongue works up harder against her.

Skye falls forward slightly, catching the top of the carved wooden headboard for support as Coulson works his tongue ceaselessly against her. His hands join in to grip her ass and set the pace of her movements over him.

She gives in and lets him direct her movements until he's holding her down against him; all she can do is freeze in place as he works his tongue against her _hard_. Skye groans when she feels his mouth open underneath her, applying additional suction that pushes her over the edge.

“Phil,” she whispers his name on repeat as her body tightens above him.

He moans against her, savoring the sensation of making her come, and his enjoyment only pushes her higher, until she collapses forward against the headboard.

“Shit,” she grunts, and then slides down on top of him, all of her limbs feeling like cooked noodles.

Coulson grins down at her, his chin glistening before he drags the back of his hand over his face and then rubs her back. His breath comes in gasps as they sink into the bed together. She's always impressed by him in moments like this, by his ability to enjoy the moment without rushing forward.

It's Skye who finally takes the initiative to sit up so that she's straddling him, his erection pressed between her legs. But it's Coulson who reaches between them and directs his cock inside of her, who trusts upwards as she starts to move her hips.

She comes easily — like, ridiculously easily — after coming so hard against his mouth. He does most of the work, thrusting up against her as she rocks her hips. When she comes, squeezing hard around his cock, he grasps her hips hard and grinds up against her to prolong her orgasm.

“Skye,” he groans, once she's settled back on top of him, and she doesn't take the time to come down this time.

Instead, she reaches down for his hands and pins them by his head before she raises up, pulling herself most of the way of his cock, and then falls back down onto him. Coulson moans loudly in response and goes still beneath her as she begins to pick up a faster rhythm.

He goes completely silent — so silent she's not even sure that he's breathing — as she moves faster on top of him. His lips open and close, eyes hooded but still intense as he looks up at her, and then it's like an explosion of sound as he practically yells her name.

She releases her grip on his hands, and he immediately wraps them around her back to pull her down on top of him as he shudders underneath her.

“Skye,” he whispers against her ear. “Skye.”

He kisses her, one hand cupping the back of her head, until she has to pull back to rearrange her legs and drop to his side.

“You're incredible,” he whispers against her mouth.

She laughs and kisses him, mapping his mouth slowly while she strokes his chest.

“Time for dinner?” Skye asks.

“Hmmm,” Coulsons sighs against her lips. “I don't want to get out of bed.”

“We could eat in bed.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “That sounds good.”

She rolls away from him, until her feet hit the ground and she stands up.

“You stay,” she smiles down at him. “I'll get the food.”

Coulson relaxes backwards, tucking his arms behind his head, and grins as she leaves the room.

In the kitchen, she digs a tray out from a lower cabinet and lays two plates on it, which she fills with Coulson's salad and two crab cakes each. She dumps on silverware, balances the two glasses of wine, and then carries the tray carefully into the bedroom.

He's leaning back against the headboard when she walks in, legs stretched across the bed and crossed at the ankles, looking entirely too pleased with himself as she sets down the tray.

“What?”

“I'm about to eat dinner naked in bed with a gorgeous woman,” he offers by way of explanation.

Skye smiles and curls in next to him.

“I got to watch a hot guy cook me dinner.”

She kisses his shoulder and then up his neck, and then they turn to lean over their plates.  


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they really like waking up together and Coulson has stubble.

Skye wakes up with the sun — she's way too conditioned after a year of training with May to sleep in — and just enjoys the feeling of still being pressed up against him. They've arranged themselves so her chest is against his back, her arm slung around him so that his arm rests on top of hers. She nuzzles against the back of his neck, inhaling the scent of him as she squeezes. He smells amazing, like sun and salt and a trace of coconut and just _him_.

It's been one of the best nights of sleep she can remember. Maybe it's the exhaustion from playing in the ocean, or the smell of the sea air, or the fact that she had so many orgasms yesterday, or just being in bed with Coulson all night.

Whichever it is, waking up in his arms is definitely something she could stand more of.

The truth is that it's getting old to have to sneak back to her room every night, or to watch him sneak back to his. There's something wonderful about having spent the entire night wrapped around him, to wake up with him still _with_ her.

“Phil,” she whispers his name against his ear.

He moans in response and turns, so she finds herself with her face pressed just under his neck while he slides one arm under her and uses the other to squeeze her against him.

“Skye,” he sighs her name, and she can feel his cock pushing against her thigh as he rolls all the way on top of her. “Skye.”

She thinks for a moment that he's still sleeping, but then he pulls back to kiss her. His tongue brushes past her teeth gently, opening her up beneath him but doing so with slow, careful precision. It's as though she's the only thing in the world for him, and her hands run up the back of his head to scratch gently through his hair.

It's morning breath and dry mouth and still, somehow, perfect. Because she's never really gotten to have this with him — waking up in the morning with his erection pressing into her, with his morning breath against her cheek, with his sleepy limbs holding her to him.

His lips move to her neck, where he sucks gentle mouthfuls of her skin and nuzzles softly. He's got a thin layer of morning stubble that scratches along her throat, and it somehow makes everything feel more intense, lights up every nerve from her neck all the way down her body.

This is something else she's not used to — Coulson's morning stubble — and she's not sure whether she loves the stubble or just the fact that it's so new. Either way, it's so real and so him, and she wants to feel this every morning.

“I like waking up with you,” she whimpers against the shockingly intense sensations of his lips.

“Hmm, yes,” he agrees between deep, slow kisses under her ear that make her shiver.

Skye tilts her head so she can get to his neck, and lays her own sucking kisses just under his jaw. The stubble feels different under her tongue, like she's exploring him for the first time. When she bites down on the edge of his jaw, he groans loudly and buries his face back in her neck.

She runs her hands down his back, firm palms followed by soft fingers, and Coulson grinds his cock down so that he's almost pressed between her thighs.

“God, Phil,” she groans and thrusts her hips upwards, encouraging him to move more thoroughly between her legs.

“Uh huh,” he agrees.

She manages to wrap her legs around his waist, but Coulson doesn't take the hint and push inside of her. Instead, he almost rubs his cock against her, thrusting so that it drags through the wetness between her legs and brushes her clit, but without delivering more.

“Come on, Coulson,” she grunts impatiently, but he ignores her pleas entirely.

“I want to know what you taste like first thing in the morning,” he murmurs under her ear, and Skye shivers in response.

“Yes.”

She can't say that the idea of him dragging his slightly-scratchy face all the way down her body doesn't sound like a really nice way to start the day.

“You like the stubble, don't you?”

He looks up from where he's nuzzling near her collar bone, eyes sleepy but knowing, and ridiculously sexy.

“Uh huh,” she agrees. “I wish I got to feel it every morning.”

“Me, too,” he sighs, and then pauses.

Coulson swallows, suddenly looking more awake as he raises up on his arms above her.

“You should move into my room.”

His words make her heart stop for a moment, make her breath freeze in her chest.

“People would know.”

“Yes,” he agrees. “They would.”

“And you don't care?”

“No. I don't care.”

“They probably already know anyways,” Skye offers. “You didn't pick this team because they're dumb.”

“Yes,” he agrees.

“So you're okay with this?” Her heart starts beating faster, and it feels almost dangerous — the way that getting exactly what she wants has always felt dangerous.

“Are you? It will affect you more.”

“How?”

“I'm fifty one,” he explains. “I'm fifty one and I've bedded a sexy woman half my age.”

“And that's impressive?”

“Many would think so,” he agrees.

“Some might say you're robbing the cradle,” she suggests. “Or taking advantage.”

He smiles at that and nuzzles against her neck again.

“I don't think anyone who knows us would think I'm taking advantage.”

They've never had this talk before, not really. There's just never been a question of it; or maybe it's just always been an assumption that things have to stay secret, or at least under the radar. She's always assumed that it was for his reputation, though.

“Some people would. Some people would think you just want me because I'm younger. Like you're having a mid-life crisis.”

“I think people will be more likely to think that I'm with you because I want to date a superhero.”

Skye laughs at that and tugs his mouth down against hers.

“So really just any superhero would do?”

“Oh, no,” he answers, lips playful against hers before he drags his chin lightly back down her neck. “I only go for superheroes who are also brilliant hackers.”

She can't actually stop herself from smiling a little too wide.

“So if we meet another gifted who's a hacker, I might be in trouble?”

He smiles up at her, more than a little silly.

“No,” he answers, simply, eyes sort of dancing as he watches her.

“You're really not worried, are you?”

“No, I'm not. But it's better to be thought of as the cradle-robbing man than the young woman trying to sleep her way to the top.”

Skye swallows and looks down. It's sort of nice that he's thought about this — that his concern is actually for her, not for himself.

“If I were worried about that, I wouldn't have let this happen.”

“And since there are no levels, there's nothing to sleep your way to the top of.”

“Convenient,” Skye quips, and for the first time it really sinks in that they're going to do this. It must happen for Coulson, too, because a slow smile spreads across his face.

“We're going to do this. Be official.”

“Yeah,” she answers, smiling back.

“Soon you're going to be Mrs. Director of SHIELD,” he teases, nipping under her ear again.

“You're proposing now?”

Coulson freezes, and she thinks he's going to backtrack, but instead he just pulls back and smiles.

“Soon enough.”

Skye laughs, and it's scary but it's also pretty amazing, especially when his scratchy face moves gently down her neck again.

“I still want to taste you first thing in the morning,” he reminds her, and Skye moans in agreement as she spreads herself open under his careful touch.

“Coulson,” she sighs his name when he drags his chin over a nipple.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

“No,” she replies. “It feels good.”

Coulson grins and then moves his mouth back down her body, dragging his chin softly as he goes. She shivers under it and finds it impossible to stay still; he just laughs against her, following the trail of his stubble with a slow, soft tongue.

His mouth works down until he's dragging his cheeks along her inner thighs, careful to keep the touch of his face against her skin extra light, extra gentle. The anticipation builds as he drags his tongue up her inner thigh and then flickers between her legs.

“ _Phil._ ” She can _feel_ him smile against her as he moves his tongue faster.

“Hmmmmm.”

He stays gentle between her legs, careful not to rub his stubble against her too hard, so that it remains just an extra source of stimulation.

“Harder,” she pleads, running a hand onto the back of his head and pushing him harder against her. He fights her a little, keeping the pressure lighter so that it builds slowly — heat dripping down to her toes as she desperately seeks more.

She's so worked up, though, that it's actually the sensation of his chin scratching against her that sends her over the edge, bucking up against his face. Skye clenches hard onto his hair as she comes, at which Coulson dips his head lower so he can push his tongue inside of her.

“God,” she calls out, loud because she's able to be loud this weekend as his tongue works her down.

Once she's stilled, Coulson drags his mouth up her stomach until he's kissing her lips, his cock pressed again between her legs.

“I _really_ like waking up with you,” he whispers into her mouth.

“Me, too,” Skye agrees, wrapping a leg low around his hips to pull him more up against her.

He groans as he pushes inside, gathering her legs around his hips so he can grind against her.

They move slowly together, mutual agreement that this is about the build, about the moment of being together, and not just about where it takes them.

Coulson's arms are planted on either side of her so that he surrounds her, his body pressing down against hers. And this has never been her favorite position — honestly, she's never really liked it with anyone but Coulson — but being surrounded by _him_ is good. And being surrounded by him while he moves inside of her is perfect.

“Skye. Skye.” He murmurs her name between kisses, with each slow thrust that builds the heat between them.

“Mmmm,” she hums back and tightens her legs around his waist, bringing them closer together while her hands stroke up and down his back,

It starts to build slowly, and sweat gathers at her hairline as her ability to enjoy slow and easy starts to wain.

“I need more,” she whimpers against his lips, and she can feel him smile in response.

“Yes,” he agrees, and while he starts to move faster, Skye raises her legs up higher on his back until he pauses to let her throw them over his shoulders.

When he sinks back down over her, bending her nearly in half, she's already practically _there_.

“ _Oh_ , fuck,” he groans as he clearly starts getting close.

“Phil,” she pants his name, squeezing tightly around him to encourage him to come with her.

“Skye.”

They come together, a pile of sweaty limbs and open mouths gasping for breath. Coulson stays wrapped around her, blanketing her with his body, long after they've both come down. The gentle rasp of his chin against the side of her face and the weight of his body against hers lulls her into deeper relaxation.

“I like morning sex,” she whispers against his cheek.

Coulson chuckles and tilts his head enough to kiss her.

“We can do it back at the Playground,” he points out. “In _our_ bedroom.”

He sounds almost giddy at the statement, which makes Skye laugh, though she can't deny that it _does_ sound good.

“I would always be late to train with May if we did that.”

“It's just something we have to practice,” he suggests instead.

“Practice morning sex?”

“Hmm.” She can feel his hum against her neck as he settles against her, using her shoulder for a pillow. “Maybe if we get better at it, I won't have to take a nap after.”

Skye smiles and leans down to kiss the top of his head as they both close their eyes.

  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they get a little cliche in the surf.

 They doze together, tangled in the bedsheets, until Skye feels the pressing need to get to the bathroom.

Slowly, she untangles herself from him and sneaks to the bathroom before pulling out her workout clothes — yoga pants and a sports bra. Coulson stirs as she walks through the room — almost acknowledging her absence, though he doesn't seem to wake up.

Skye slips outside and walks barefoot down the beach, down past loose sand and onto the firm, wet sand just beyond the edge of the water. Once she's on firm ground, she starts her yoga sequence. The water is cool when it occasionally makes it far enough up the shore to lap against her feet, but it's soothing, and leaves her feeling connected to the world around her.

This has been her regular morning routine since Puerto Rico — taking time to center herself before meeting up with May for regular training. They still run through May's tai chi sequence sometimes, but Skye generally prefers the solitude and the close focus on every muscle that comes with holding poses for longer.

It's not until she's finished her standing poses that she notices that Coulson has been watching. He's relaxed in one of the beach chairs that they've left out overnight, legs stretched in front of him.

“Don't stop on my account.”

“Maybe you should come join me,” Skye suggests instead.

“Didn't I tell you I'm not very flexible?”

“Something like that.”

She walks across the sand and grabs his hand, though, tugging him towards the firmer ground.

“Skye —”

“Just go with it, Phil,” she chides him.

He smiles back at her and lets her guide his arms up above his head. Of course, she probably doesn't have to press herself up against his chest, probably doesn't have to run her hands as far up his arms as she can reach.

“Like this?” He asks her, placing his palms together over his head.

“Yeah.” Skye lets her hands run back down his arms and then his chest. “Breathe.”

His chest inflates under her hands as Coulson follows her instructions, taking slow breaths as she traces down to his stomach and then up under his shirt. She laces soft fingers through his chest hair, up to flick past his nipples, so that he groans against the top of her head.

“I didn't realize this was part of yoga.”

“Mmhmm,” she responds as her fingers walk back down his stomach. “Very important part.”

“If I'd have known, I would have taken it up earlier.”

Skye smiles and reaches up to kiss him softly.

“Just breathe.”

He does, remaining silent as she molests him through a half-moon sequence, first right and then left, so that his abdominal muscles are pulled tight and firm under her hands.

“Now forward. Try to touch your forehead to your knees and hold your ankles.”

He follows her instructions, getting much closer to the posture than she'd have expected.

“Keep breathing,” she instructs, her voice quiet.

“Yeah.”

He relaxes into the pose, and Skye presses lightly on his lower back before brushing down to his butt. For a moment, she thinks he's going to tense, but he relaxes into her touch, letting her hand roam freely under the elastic waist of his basketball shorts.

“You're not doing too bad, sir.”

“I should do this every day,” he answers, his voice only slightly muffled by the pressure on his diaphragm.

She waits another few seconds before bringing him back up to standing, again guiding his hands back over his head. Coulson has other ideas, though, and she's honestly only slightly surprised when he drops his hands to her back and pulls her into a kiss. He half-lifts her up against him and parts his lips to deepen the kiss, drawing a moan from deep in Skye's chest.

“You're more flexible than you let on.”

“Maybe a little.”

She smiles against his mouth, pressing forward to kiss him harder.

“It's because you're less worried about compartmentalizing,” she suggests.

“Probably true.”

He kisses her harder and skates his hands down her back until he meets the edges of her top. Slowly, he works his fingertips underneath the elastic band, touching her skin softly before he tugs the garment over her head and tosses it back towards the beach chairs.

She sighs into his mouth as he cups her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples while she pushes closer to him. There's something thrilling about being stripped here in the open, something that makes every touch more intense. Especially when he leans down to capture a nipple between his lips and his beard growth tingles against her skin.

Skye pushes him back only long enough to tug his shirt over his head and toss it towards where her bra is lying.

“Are we going to do this here?” He murmurs the question against her lips, but his fingers are still active as they quest from her breasts down her stomach to dip under the waistband of her pants.

“Yeah, pretty sure we are,” she agrees.

Coulson laughs and pushes his hands under her pants and underwear, so he can strip them off. He does it slowly, dragging his fingers over every inch of her legs on the way down until he's dropped to his knees in front of her. Her pants get thrown back towards their beach chairs, and then Coulson's hands circle her ankles as he looks up at her.

She shivers as his fingers skate up her inner thighs, and he urges her legs a little further apart so that he can slip his right hand between her legs. He teases her slowly, circling her entrance before sliding a finger over her clit.

Yes, it's got something to do with being naked outside (even if it is private), but she's incredibly turned on, both by his touch and by the reality of their little scene. Of Coulson on his knees in front of her, of the rising sun and the sand between her toes and the wind and the spray of the surf on her naked skin. It's ridiculously erotic, this snapshot of sensation, and his finger barely brushing over her sex is almost too much.

And then he leans forward and manages to slide his tongue between her legs.

“Coulson,” she grunts is name and snags her fingers in his hair to keep herself upright.

“Skye,” he answers back, voice teasing, even as he works his tongue harder against her, his hands gentle on her inner thighs as he spreads her open for easier access.

Her legs don't feel quite stable, though, and she practically claws at his neck in an attempt to stay vertical. He compensates for her by gripping her butt instead, holding her up against his mouth.

It's almost too much — too much sensation all at once — and she releases a shockingly loud keening noise as her knees give out, but Coulson just catches more of her weight.

She groans through an orgasm, her body shaking against Coulson as he supports her.

Somehow, he manages to stand up without dropping her, and he kisses her as he fumbles at the buttons of his shorts. She can taste herself on his lips and tongue, and she finds her legs underneath her in order to grasp the back of his head and deepen the kiss.

Coulson kicks away his shorts and boxers, a move that Skye is only vaguely aware of, and then she finds herself lowered back onto the ground. The sand is cold and wet beneath her, but it's only when a wave laps up on the beach under her back that she shrieks and rolls them.

He ends up on his back in the water, and his mouth opens with a shocked 'O' of surprise.

“ _Shit_ that's cold.”

She's on top of him before he has a chance to move, though, his cock buried inside of her as the next wave hits them.

“Skye,” he hisses, letting his mouth fall open as he arches up against her.

“Okay?”

“Shit,” he curses as the water rises up his back again. It's cold on her legs, but hot where they're connected, and when Skye squeezes down around him Coulson grunts out another string of curse words.

“Okay, Coulson?”

He manages to nod up at her as Skye starts to rock her hips. Wet sand grinds uncomfortably into her knees, but she ignores it as she leans backwards and his cock hits the perfect spot inside of her. She moves slowly, keeping time with the rhythm of waves that wash over his body beneath her.

His hands slide up her thighs to grip her hips so he can thrust up against her every time she rocks forward. She grunts at the change, moving harder against him as the water washes over them.

“Like that.”

She comes right as a larger surge of water covers Coulson's face completely, and she suddenly finds herself rolled onto her back on the wet sand, away from the water. Coulson leans over her, dripping seawater down on her face, as he pumps his hips hard and fast against hers.

Skye clings to him as she rides out her orgasm, and the heat between them paired with the cold sand on her back makes everything feel strangely intense and real.

Coulson comes above her with a loud shout, and when a wave laps up under her back, Skye squeals and bucks up against Coulson, rolling them further away from the water so that she's once again on top.

She can feel the sand sticking to her skin — can see the fact that Coulson's gritty, too — but she's still surprised that when she leans down to kiss him, she feels sand and tastes salt water.

It makes her laugh as she collapses on top of him, far enough away from the water that they start to dry in the early morning sun.

“What's so funny?”

“This,” she answers, dragging a hand down his chest so that sand scrapes against the both of them.

“I guess when people make love on the beach in fiction, they don't have to contend with the sand.”

“True. It was still pretty hot, though.”

“Hmm,” he maybe agrees as he slides his hands down her back, brushing away some of the grit that's stuck to her shoulders. “ _You're_ really hot.”

He pulls her down to kiss her, but again it feels like they're pressing sand between their lips.

“Shower,” he suggests, to which Skye nods and pulls back.

“ _Hot_ shower.”

“That sounds nice.”

Coulson is still languid, sleepy in a post-coital way, as they walk to the shower. Once they're under the hot spray of water, he has little interest in showering, and much more in holding her up against him as they warm up.

She really doesn't mind.

“Hey,” she calls his attention after they've been standing under the warm water for several minutes. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” he answers, meeting her eyes so she can see that he's telling the truth. “I'm just wishing we got to do this more often.”

“Have sex on the beach?”

“Spend the morning relaxing. Take showers together.”

Skye nods and rests her head back on his chest.

“Do you sometimes still think about...leaving?”

“Leaving?”

“Having a normal life.”

It scares her to ask because, whatever might have been the case before San Juan, Skye will never have a normal life, now. She'll never be a part of someone's normal life.

“No,” he answers, calling her out of her thoughts as though he knows exactly what she's thinking.

“You've always wanted that, though. I know you have. I saw how you were with Mike and Ace, the very first day we met.”

“I've always _wondered_ about it,” he corrects her. “I never took it, though, and there's a reason for that.”

“Why?”

“Because of what SHIELD stands for.”

Skye nods. For both of them, SHIELD is as much about the values they built together on the Bus as it is about the large organization. For both of them, it stands for something that HYDRA couldn't ever infiltrate.

“Skye,” he runs a hand down the side of her face. “If I think of leaving, sometimes, it's not to have a normal life. It's just to have more time with you.”

“Because I'm not normal.”

“No, you're not,” he agrees, smiling.

“Geez, Coulson. You're supposed to at least pretend that —”

“You weren't normal the day we met,” he reminds her. “You've never been normal.”

“And you liked that.”

“You know I did. You know I still like that.”

Skye leans her head onto Coulson's shoulder as he turns them to let the water rinse down their bodies from a new angle.

“I just want you,” he whispers against her ear.

“Me, too,” Skye replies.

And they've had this conversation plenty — about who is giving up more for whom. About his age and her genetics and his choices and her angry father...and it always comes back to that.

It's not easy to think about, but Skye has never exactly been a person to let worries about the future hold her back from what she wants. After all, their work is dangerous; it's part of why she always worries that he'll want to leave it. And he _will_ have to leave it at some point; he'll be at the age of retirement by the time she's 40. There are no guarantees for them, though, and she's not prepared to sacrifice what they have now based on fears of what might come.

They kiss under the hot water, the grit of the beach washing away around them.

“You want coffee?” Coulson whispers in her ear.

“I kind of want to get back in bed,” she admits.

“Oh?”

“So I can wake up to you again.”

Coulson smiles into another kiss, and they finish showering in order to dart back into the house together.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they are sad that their vacation is ending but morning sex is still awesome.

 She wakes up the next morning to the sensation of Coulson kissing down the line of her neck, his face buried against her shoulder from where he spoons her.

The scratch of his two-day beard makes her shiver against him.

“Sorry,” he mumbles into her skin. “I didn't want to wake you.”

“You just wanted to molest me in my sleep?”

Coulson laughs against her shoulder and shakes his head.

“I guess I _did_ want to wake you,” he admits, as he pushes his erection against her hip. Skye shivers in response and tilts her head to expose more of her neck to him.

“Keep going.”

He moves his mouth back down, hitting all the right spots, so that Skye finds herself grinding back against him. In response, he groans, sending pleasurable vibrations down her spine.

And even though she can feel the wetness collecting between her thighs, even though the arousal is almost painful, all she can think about for a moment is the fact that their weekend together is practically over.

“I don't want it to be Sunday.”

“Me either,” he answers into her skin, between soft scrapes of teeth and presses of his tongue against her.

“When do we get to do this again?”

He raises his head from her shoulder and nuzzles the side of her face, letting out his own sigh of frustration before he pulls away from her and to sit up against the headboard.

“I don't know.”

He sounds almost petulant, but of course it wasn't Skye's intention to make him pull away. She sits up and curls into his chest, draping herself across him in his seated position.

“I've had fun the last two days, you know? It's nice to have nothing to worry about but you.”

She can see him smile from the corner of her eye, see the familiar lines underneath his two days of beard growth.

“Is that what you call it? Worrying about me?”

Skye laughs and cuddles into his shoulder, where she's greeted with his hand stroking down her back.

“Yeah.” She kisses hisjust just to the side of his chin and then nips on it, teeth scraping through stubble. “I haven't gotten to worry about you enough lately.”

“True.” He nods and nuzzles against the top of her head. “I could stand to worry about you a lot more, too. You know that when we're back on base, any time you want to take a break—”

“Are you seriously suggesting that we need more afternoon quickies right now?”

Coulson is actually blushing a little bit when she leans up to see his face.

“I'm suggesting that I need more of you. Whatever that means.”

“In your bed all night,” Skye suggests, and Coulson nods adamantly. “On your desk in the afternoon...”

“Skye.” She thinks that he intends to make it a warning, but it comes out more of a moan.

“Under your desk?”

She can feel him swallow against the top of her head, can see his cock tenting the bedsheet that's still draped over their lower bodies.

“You like that one, right? You want me to suck you off while you're working, don't you?”

He doesn't even try to deny it, just increases the pressure of his hand running down her back.

“I'll do it, you know. While you're on a call, so you have to try to keep it together.”

His breath comes in a shaky exhale, and the hand on her back runs down lower to cup her butt and pull her harder into his side.

“You know I love to start when you're soft,” she continues, tilting her head so she can whisper in his ear. “So I can feel you get hard on my tongue.”

“Shit.” It's a grunt, and she loves it when he gets like this — so desperate for her that he loses the filter that generally keeps him from cursing.

“Once you're hard, I'll go so slow,” she promises. “So slow it'll drive you crazy.”

He runs his hand up to the back of her head and pulls her into a fast, deep kiss. His tongue isn't careful or practiced at all; the kiss is dirty and not a little bit rough before he breaks it in order to breathe.

“You're not going to be able to do that if I'm hiding under your desk, you know.”

Coulson exhales hard and knocks the top of his head back onto the headboard, arching his back so that the sheet dips down further and almost exposes him.

“Skye.”

And that's the other word that comes out when he gets desperate; her name repeated on every breath, during every moan.

“I'm going to tease you until you can't stop yourself from begging, right there in the office.”

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and she can see the hand that's not on her back move down to grasp himself under the sheet.

“Hey,” she chides him, tugging down the sheet and moving his hand away. “I didn't say you could do that.”

“ _Fuck, Skye_.”

She slides down the bed to his legs, then, and positions herself with her mouth dangerously close to his cock.

He meets her eyes as she licks her lips, and he groans again, making fists by his thighs in self-enforced restraint.

“But you like to watch, don't you?”

She lowers her mouth so that her lips actually brush against his cock as she speaks.

“Yes,” he answers. Or maybe he just groans.

“You won't be able to see me if I'm under your desk.”

He thrusts his hips up even though the tension in his body says he's trying not to.

“I'll manage,” he grunts.

“What would people think if they knew you were getting a blowjob while you were doing official SHIELD business?”

“Don't care,” he answers, shaking his head adamantly. “Please, Skye.”

She leans forward then, taking pity on him, and sucks the head of his cock into her mouth. Coulson is loud and talkative — even moreso than usual — as she begins to swirl her tongue against the sensitive underside.

“Good, so good,” he repeats. “Fuck Skye, don't stop.”

She takes him deeper, but moves slowly over him so he can feel the slide of her lips down to the base.

“ _Skye_ ,” Coulson gives in and runs a shaky had down the side of her face, “fuck.”

The pace of her mouth over him increases, and he lets out a long slow moan.

“Stop,” he grunts suddenly. “Stop.”

Skye pulls back, watching as Coulson shakes and takes deep breaths.

“You _really_ like the idea of getting a blowjob at your desk, don't you?”

He raises an eyebrow at her, clearly attempting at nonchalance, but all Skye has to do is lean down and drag her tongue over the tip of him and he's groaning again, head thrown back against the headboard.

“Yes,” he answers. “Yes, I want that.”

“Me, too,” she admits, and strokes a soft hand up his thigh.

Coulson is silent as she traces her fingers around his groin while avoiding his cock, though his hips occasionally move towards her hand, as though encouraging more direct contact.

He clears his throat, though, and grabs her hand to draw her attention to his face.

“What else do you want?”

“You mean how else do I want us to fuck in your office?”

Coulson closes his eyes and licks his lips.

“Or anywhere else.”

Skye grins at him and crawls the rest of the way up his body, until she's straddling his hips while he sits back against the headboard.

“In Lola,” she suggests, smiling flirtatiously.

He groans and swallows as she sits back on his cock, sinking down while he bends his knees up behind her. She only has to lean forward slightly to press up against him and rest her head on his shoulder, and he encourages her to wrap her legs around his back.

“ _Skye_.”

Coulson's hands knead down her back as they rock together, and he hits so deep inside her in this position that it compensates for the fact that there isn't much leverage for thrusting.

He leans down to get his lips near her ear and exhales lightly as he pushes her down against him, keeping their pace deep and slow.

“On top of Lola.”

“You going to bend me over the hood?”

“No,” he grunts in response and flexes his hips up against hers. “I'm going to spread you open.”

“Like a centerfold?”

He puffs out a laugh just underneath her ear.

“More x-rated.” Coulson nips at her earlobe. “I'm going to wrap your legs around my head and eat you until you scream.”

His words send a thrill of arousal through her body, and she clenches around him. Skye kisses him again, hard and desperate as she gets closer.

“Yes,” she mumbles into his mouth and picks up the speed of her hips grinding down against him.

Everything is hazy as she gets closer, just sensations of sweaty skin and hot breath passed between them. Even moving faster together like this is slow and steady, heat building until they're incoherent and Skye loses track of how much time has passed.

They come together, Coulson following shortly after her, and she collapses into him as they both pant for breath — not from exertion as much as from intensity.

“I don't want to go back,” Skye murmurs into his chest, and he presses kisses into the top of her head as his hands cup her shoulder blades.

“When we get back, you can unpack in my room.” He pauses between kisses on her hair. “Our room,” he corrects himself.

“Hmm.”

“And I'll wake you up tomorrow morning with my tongue,” he promises.

Skye laughs and cuddles back into him for a few minutes before they have to get up and pack.

  
  



	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which they drive Lola back to the Bus, and I do not endorse sex at public rest stops.

 They're about half way back to the airfield where they're supposed to meet May. The highway is surrounded by a lot of empty land, but they enjoy the scenery less going back. He's not being easy with the acceleration this time — they're going fast, making really good time, and running way ahead of schedule.

She's almost offended, like he's really excited to get back.

And then he pulls off the road at a rest stop. It's deserted and tucked behind a thick grove of trees, well away from the highway.

Coulson turns a dirty grin at her, and Skye raises her eyebrows.

“Phil,” she starts to tease him but finds herself cut off by his lips closing over hers, his tongue insistent as it slips against hers.

“Shhh,” he hushes her between kisses. “I'm trying to do something here.”

“And what's that?”

“Hmm.” Coulson slips his tongue along hers again, his beard growth still pleasantly scratchy against her face. “I'm going to get you naked on top of my car,” he answers.

Skye laughs and pulls back from their kiss.

“And how are you going to accomplish that?”

He just grins at her, playfully evil and knowing and smug and surprisingly sexy with his salt and pepper beard. She kisses him again because she can't not kiss him when he looks like that.

Gently, he runs his hands up from her stomach to cup her breasts over her dress, making her sigh into his mouth as he circles her nipples with his thumbs. She's wearing a thin, wraparound sundress that she's tied to expose a deep V of skin down between her breasts, and it makes it really easy for him to slip his hands inside.

His fingers move slowly, a light touch over her skin as he slides them under the cups of her bra. The feel of his calloused fingertips on her bare skin, of his warm hands on her breasts, makes her thrust her chest into his palms.

“Come here,” he urges her over the console between them, to straddle his lap in the driver's seat.

Surprisingly, there's actually a lot of room between his lap and the steering wheel — enough for her to fit anyways — but there's not much room to move beyond that and the bucket seat doesn't give her a good spot for her knees.

It's hard to care about that, though, when he pulls his hands out of her bra so he can run them up the backs of her thighs. She's much taller than him in this position, and he takes advantage of that fact by burying his face between her breasts as he cups her ass and pulls her harder against him.

It's shockingly intense as he works his tongue back under her dress to tease her right nipple, his fingers squeezing low on her ass and moving between her legs. There's an awkward shift as he works his right hand between them, and then his fingers are teasing her inner thighs, brushing up against her panties while he works the top of her dress further open with his face.

In the growing fog of arousal, it sort of occurs to her that Coulson asked her to wear this dress today. This easily removable short dress that would make stripping her down in the car much easier. They bought it as a sort of impulse buy at the souvenir boutique where they bought the swim suits, and he fed her a line about wanting to see her in it before they got back. Really, though he wanted to see her _out_ of it.

And she might be offended, or maybe just amused, at his underhanded plans if it weren't for the feel of his fingers teasing under the edge of her panties.

Skye grips the back of his head and tugs him up from her cleavage into a desperate kiss.

“I want to make you come,” he whispers against her lips.

“Yes,” she agrees, shifting her hips to get his fingers where she wants them. He teases at her entrance, pushing his index finger just inside, and then pulls back to circle her clit.

“Not like this.”

He adds pressure to her clit, working in tight circles that push her higher.

“ _Coulson_.”

“I want to get back to the base with your panties in my pocket and the smell of you all over my face.”

Skye just groans and grinds herself down, only to find that his fingers aren't between her legs anymore.

“Phil,” she begs him, “please.”

“On top of the car.”

And God help her, it starts to sound like a much better idea when she tries to lower herself to grind against his groin, only to find that the seats won't allow such movement.

Skye groans and pulls back, her legs shaking from balancing as she has been.

“You owe me,” she grumbles as she looks down at herself, her dress already half-open from the way he's been touching her.

“What do I owe you?”

“Don't know, yet. But it'll be good.”

Coulson doesn't look the least bit worried or the least bit sorry as he opens the door and guides her up and out of the car. Her knees feel too soft to fully stand, so she grips Lola's door and backs away enough for him to stand up with her. Immediately, he tugs at the knot holding her dress together and it falls open.

“God, you're so sexy,” he whispers before pulling her into another kiss. A mostly-naked-in-public-with-a-man-dressed-in-a-suit kiss. Which, not surprisingly, is pretty hot, especially when she rubs herself against him.

She loses track of the steps that lead to her being eased back onto Lola's hood — her arousal is clearly clouding not just her judgement but her perception of time — but Coulson spreads her out, just as he'd described.

He tugs her panties down and off her ankles, letting her flip flops fall to the ground, almost unnoticed. The underwear get carefully folded and slid into his pocket, though, an then he just stares at her.

She's not actually naked — is still in her bra with her dress is half in place — but she sort of self-consciously poses for him, mimicking something that might be on the wall in a mechanic's shop.

“How long has this been a fantasy of yours, Coulson? Naked woman on top of Lola?”

He laughs and presses a hand against his groin, but makes no move to touch her further as she parts her legs slightly, sort of playfully enticing him to touch her.

“Fury only gave me Lola when I got the Bus, you know.”

“Oh?” She doesn't really know what that has to do with anything.

“You're the first woman I met after I got her.”

“Yeah?” Skye smiles, sort of getting it. “The first one you gave a ride to?”

“Yes.”

There's a long pause, during which he's definitely rubbing himself through his slacks.

“It's always you,” he tells her, voice sort of gruff from his own arousal. “In this fantasy, it's always you. It's always _been_ you.”

And his words are arousing — almost unbearably arousing — but they're also something a lot more than that.

“Come here,” Skye reaches out a hand for him, only a little surprised at the crack in her voice.

Coulson does, taking a few steps forward and bending over her so he can kiss her. The press of his body against hers, of his suit jacket on her naked skin, makes every touch between them tingle. By the time he pulls back to suck in a deep breath, Skye is writhing underneath him, desperate for more.

“Phil,” she whispers his name on repeat as she wraps her legs around his hips, trying to entice him.

He smiles down at her — a little bit of that smug and evil look that started this whole thing — and then buries his face in her neck. His lips skim over her bra and quickly down her stomach until he's crouched in front of her with his tongue pressed against her clit.

She comes so fast it's embarrassing, and she knows he'll tease her about sex in public later. There's something about the fear of getting caught and the feel of open air on her skin that drives her a little wild.

He makes no move to pull back even when she finally unclenches her legs from around his head, instead pushing two fingers inside of her to join in as he continues.

Her hands move up to grasp her breasts as he pushes her higher, and she arches back against the car, working almost as hard as he is.

“Don't stop,” she calls out between panted breaths.

He hums a response, somewhere between agreement and just a moan, and pushes his tongue against her harder.

A perfect crook of his fingers inside of her makes her nearly scream, and Coulson redoubles his efforts until she's calling his name repeatedly, bucking her hips against his face while she falls apart against him.

“God, Phil,” she groans as she becomes aware of the fact that her thighs are clenched tightly around his ears. She relaxes, lets her legs fall open, but Coulson doesn't pull back. Instead, he nuzzles her inner thigh and runs his tongue once more across the length of her sex — a slow, savoring motion that makes her moan.

When he stands up, looking incredibly satisfied with himself, she's surprised that he makes no move to strip out of his pants. Skye sits up and reaches for him, brushing her hand over his cock, but Coulson catches her hand and brings it to his mouth. A soft kiss on her palm, and he releases her.

“I want to fuck you in our bed when we get home,” he tells her, and Skye nods. “You ready to stand up?”

“Hmm, not quite,” she admits, though she straightens her bra and her dress.

Coulson watches, his eyes large and pupils wide, as she covers herself back up. His right hand strays into his pocket, and it takes her a moment to realize he's touching her panties. Then he leans in and kisses her, a deep slow exploration of her mouth before he pulls away and lifts her off the car.

Skye squeals and wraps her arms around Coulson's neck as he carries her to the passenger seat and places her inside, and she doesn't even understand why until he disappears under the front of the car for a moment before returning with her sandals.

He's tense when he gets in the driver's seat, and she can guess why when he has to adjust his cock behind his zipper. Admittedly, she doesn't have any experience to judge by, but it looks pretty uncomfortable.

“Coulson,” she sighs his name and drapes herself across the console, her head on his shoulder and her hand sliding down his chest. “You sure you don't want me to take care of that?”

“Skye,” he grunts as her hand lands on his groin, feeling out the shape of him under his slacks. His hand lands on top of hers, not stopping her, but preventing her from moving too much.

“You look so tense,” she whispers in his ear. “And I want to help.”

“But —”

He's doing that thing again, where he's thinking too much about the future, and as well as that generally works out for both of them, it's not what she wants right now.

“I want you to be as satisfied as I am,” she murmurs as her fingers close around his cock as best she can through the material and underneath his own hand.

Coulson groans and releases her hand, letting her unzip him so she can wiggle her hand under his slacks and pull him out.

“You've always thought about _this_ , too,” Skye posits as she leans further over the console. “Admit it.”

He moans when she sucks him into her mouth, a long low sound that ends in a gasp at the feel of her tongue circling the head of his cock.

“Christ, Skye,” he moans. “I'm so close.”

She works her mouth over him faster, harder at that and Coulson loses it underneath her. His usual self-restraint evaporates, and she feels his hand land on the back of her head as he comes, repeating her name like a mantra.

When she pulls back, he's collapsed back on his seat, chest heaving, so she tucks him back into his slacks and zips him up.

“Coulson,” she calls his name softly until he opens his eyes and smiles at her, soft and relaxed.

“Hi.”

Skye laughs and leans up to kiss him, just a soft peck that he extends with a hand on her shoulder. His mouth opens under hers and they kiss softly, just lips sliding over lips, until he sighs against her mouth and pulls back.

“That was amazing,” he tells her.

She's sort of skeptical of that because in the realm of blow jobs, she's definitely done better.

“The other part.” Coulson raises an eyebrow at her.

“You mean the part where my panties are in your pocket.”

“Yes,” he agrees.

Skye smiles and kisses him again.

“We can do it again soon,” she promises right before he sucks her lower lip into his mouth and bites down softly.

 

\--

They're fifteen minutes late to meet May, who glares daggers at both of them until she sees them stand hand in hand to greet her.

Her eyebrow arches in surprise.

“So, you're finally going to officially do this?”

She directs the question at Coulson, and it actually occurs to Skye for the first time that May and Coulson have actually talked about this before. Well, no, she _knew_ that, it's just that she hasn't thought about it in such real terms before. It's sort of icky.

Except that May has known. Skye suspects that everyone has known, but with May it's been this big obvious undiscussed _thing_ between them, and it feels kind of good to not have it there anymore.

“Yes,” Coulson answers May, sounding almost confrontational. Not like he expects her to disapprove; more like he's answering a dare.

“About time,” May responds dryly, and then she smiles at Skye. Like, actually _really_ smiles in a way that May very rarely does. “You both look good.”

“I needed the break,” Skye acknowledges, at which May nods.

And she's definitely sad that her vacation is over, but it's nice to be back. It's especially nice to feel like her relationship with Coulson is a real thing, not something to be hidden or acted upon only on a weekend away.

“Not so bad, right?” Coulson whispers in her ear, reading her thoughts as May walks away to get them off the ground.

“No,” she agrees. “Not bad.”

“Let's go strap ourselves in for takeoff,” he suggests with a sly lift of his eyebrow, and they head upstairs to jump back into it.

  
  



End file.
